


The Other Side: Part Thirteen

by PiscesPenName



Series: The Other Side Series [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is a Sweetheart, F/M, Medical Kink, Nurses, Prostate Massage, Vaginismus, vulvodynia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 11:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11873511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiscesPenName/pseuds/PiscesPenName
Summary: Okay, so I have to warn you this goes a wee bit off the vanilla path as Carrie and Dean decide to fulfill his nurse fantasy.





	The Other Side: Part Thirteen

Carrie's cell buzzed on the car seat on the way home from her shift at Jensen Memorial. It was the end of a long day and it didn't seem to be getting any better. She hit a pot hole and heard the phone thump on the seat. Carrie pulled up to a stop light and glanced at the lit screen, expecting a text from her father asking her to pick him up something random from the store. 

Instead the screen flashed the name of the sender.

DEAN.

Her heart gave a small adrenaline fueled skip. The light turned and she pulled into the nearest parking lot and picked up her phone.  

The text was curt and simple. His usual style.

Her breath grew short with anticipation. That nervous butterflies the stomach feeling she got when he was close. 

The answer pinged in immediately.

She typed as a response. 

Carrie looked at herself in the rear view. She gathered her straight hair into a quick ponytail to tame it and sighed. 

She sent back. 

Carrie pulled out of the parking lot into the opposite direction she had been heading originally and down an old country road. 

* * *

 

Dean's classic black Chevy was already there when she pulled into the clearing she usually parked in. 

She reached into her purse and pulled out a peach lip gloss, gave herself a swipe of it. There was nothing that could be done about the turquoise scrubs and sensible white shoes. 

She popped a tic tac and grabbed her first aid kit out of the trunk. Looked like if there was any time to fulfill Dean's nurse kink it would be today. 

Carrie started down the path to the cabin. The trek didn't seem too long today. She looked ahead of her on the path and saw him leaned up against the doorway looking out into the wood. Her heart jumped at his sheer stunning physicality. 

Her movement attracted his attention and he turned to look at her. He broke into his easy smile and walked toward her. Those damn bowlegs giving him a distinct swagger. 

"Hi, sweetheart." He said in his dark voice. 

"Hi." 

He pulled her into a hug and held her for a long time. His smell familiar: whiskey, motor oil, old spice. His oversized jacket creaked when he moved. 

"I missed you," she said. 

He leaned down and caught her into one of his searingly hot kisses, his mouth coaxing hers open and his tongue exploring her. 

He pulled away and grinned. "Missed you too, baby."

His eyebrow rose as he took in her ensemble and her bag slung over her shoulder. "I've only got until tomorrow. Have to meet Sammy in Pennsylvania."

"Does he know where you go?"

Dean shrugged. "Sometimes. Sometimes it doesn't matter as long as we have a rendezvous point." 

He gave her his arm and she hooked hers around his and followed him to the cabin. 

"I didn't bring anything to eat." Carrie said, her stomach giving a hungry lurch. 

"I did." Dean replied. He gestured to the sheet of pizza and the beers on the countertop. 

"That's my man." She said happily. She stopped to see if he would react to the phrase. If it bothered him he gave no sign. 

Carrie grabbed a slice of pizza and tried not to wolf it down. 

Dean joined her. "This pizza joint isn't too bad. There's nothing like New York pizza. Even the crappy pizza places are good. How was your shift?"

"Long." She responded, kicking off her shoes. 

"You look hot."

"Dean, I'm in scrubs."

"Yeah." He said. "Hot." 

"You're weird." 

"Those little drawstring waists. Those v necks." He gave her a once over with his eyes. 

She laughed under his scrutiny. 

He cocked his head with a crooked smile. "You look adorable." 

She blushed and tipped her head shyly. Dean popped a cap on a beer bottle with his silver ring and took a few long swigs. 

He looked at her and there was a little predatory glint to his eyes. "I like that pony tail." 

"You do?" 

He set his beer down and approached her.

"Can we play doctor?" He asked. "I think I have a fever." 

* * *

 

Dean settled into the mattresses and furrowed his brow, his eyes pleading. He gave her his best pathetic look, which was disarmingly adorable. "I don't feel so good."

Carrie laughed then tried to straighten her expression. "Well Mr. Winchester..." she couldn't help but start to smirk. "Dean, I can't."

She still had her scrubs on, her medical supplies brought in from the trunk laid out next to them.

"Aww come on, Care. Just go for it." He said, blinking up at her from his fringe of lashes and shifting onto his elbow. "Do you know how often me and Sam just make shit up to get access to somethin? Wing it."

Carrie paused, cleared her throat. "I feel ridiculous."

"Well, I feel sick," Dean rumbled up at her, all big eyes, his charm turned up to 11. "I think I have a fever."

She shook her head and knelt down next to him. She tried to not to laugh again. He was doing a good job of looking wrung out.

She leaned over and felt his forehead with her hand, he was warm under her palm but not fever warm. He just ran hotter than her. "You know in real life..."

"I don't care about real life," Dean said, his voice a little quiet and deep. "Just touch me, hun. Put your hands on me."

She cupped his face tenderly for a minute and locked eyes with him. His were boyish and trusting, outlined in long curling black lashes. She felt under his strong jawline for his lymph nodes. He submitted to the exam, watching her silently. She slid her fingers to rest on his neck to take his pulse.

She found it easier to get into the routine without talking. She started to unbutton his plaid, slipping the buttons free slowly. "I'm going to listen to your heart."

Carrie leaned her ear against his bare chest and listened to the solid thump, thump and the even rise and fall of his breathing.

"No stethoscope?" He asked.

She picked her head up. "You want me to go full out."

He nodded with a naughty smirk. "Yeah."

"Okay." She took her stethoscope out of her bag and put it on. Figured she may as well get a full physical out of him and if Dean thought that was sexy then... all the better.

She listened to his heart, strong and sure and true. A low resting pulse. She pressed it a little lower to listen to his gut sounds, then looked up at him watching her. "I'm going to press in on your belly, okay?"

"Yeah."

She pressed in under his ribcage, feeling for any tenderness, moved her hands down the defined bands of muscle in his abs, pressing in. "That hurt?"

He shook his head. She unbuckled his pants and Dean's breathing halted a moment. She popped the button on his jeans and lowered the waistband just a bit, slid her hand underneath it, pressed in, feeling for anything off.

"Cough for me, hun."

He did. She felt his abs clench and contract with the motion.

"Okay, good."

She looked up at him. "Can you sit up for me so that I can listen to your lungs?"

He sat upright and she pulled his flannel up and placed the stethoscope against his bare back and asked him to breathe.

Dean was watching her again, eyes eager.

His lungs were clear. Carrie let his shirt fall back into place and paused, suddenly self-conscious again and uncertain where to go from there.

His expression fell after a moment of her confusion.

"What office do you work for?" He asked her suddenly, almost casually.

She blinked. "Urology."

Dean pushed the quilt aside a little. "You've got to be the prettiest urology assistant in the whole place."

She laughed. "That's not a high bar to beat."

Dean furrowed his brow as if a thought had occurred to him. "So...that means you see a lot of...well," he paused. "Everything?"

"Yes, yes I do."

She couldn't read his expression.

"You just seem so innocent." He said after a minute.

"Well its a job, Dean. It's not like I'm handling..."

"Naked men," he supplied.

"Okay well that I do sometimes but...it's mostly the doctor that does and..." she flushed, flustered. "It's not like you're making it out to be. It's old men who can't pee and old women who can't not pee."

"Lotta pee." He laid back down, laced his hands behind his head.

Carrie was unsure. "You... lost interest? What's going on here?"

"You're not very good at playing sexy nurse." He gave her leg a playful nudge with his bare foot.

"I don't know what you want me to do!" Carrie felt her cheeks flush with embarrassed heat.

He snorted. "Calm down. You're takin it too seriously. Just...play. it's playin."

"This isn't play to me. It's my work."

He smiled at her. "You are so uptight." He nudged her with his foot again. "Just loosen up, baby. Have fun."

Carrie sat there defensively and knew he was right. Could feel herself clenching her jaw and her spine was rigid. 

she admonished. She looked down at him, sprawled with his shirt unbuttoned and his boot cut jeans awry.

She sighed and let it go. "Yeah I guess I am."

"Don't be that way. Life is too short." He hunkered down into the mattress again. "Now what are you going to do about my fever?"

She shook her head and put her hand on his forehead. "Oh sweetheart. You're awfully warm. Sit up for me." He did and she started to slip his shirt off his shoulders. "We need to get you out of these layers."

She stripped him down, the plaid sliding off the curve of his biceps. The tattoo on his chest caught her eye. She still wasn't used to the damned thing. "Good boy. I'm going to sponge you off okay?" She asked, pushing him back onto the mattress.

He fell back and she tugged his pants down, slipping them over the curve of his ass, down his legs, off of him.

His penis was at partial mast.

Carrie stood up to get a damp washcloth from the sink and a bowl of warm water. She returned and Dean had his eyes closed.

"Okay, sweetheart." She wiped the damp rag across his forehead and then down the sides of his neck.

"Tell me it's gonna be okay," he requested, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. She stopped what she was doing. 

"It's gonna be okay," she whispered.

He had his eyes closed but his face tightened, and she saw him swallow. There was some sort of emotion there. Some release he needed.

She kept on her comfort track, taking his big warm hand in both of her own, gently squeezing it; his fingers tightened on hers a minute. 

"It's okay, honey," she soothed.

"Don't feel good," he mumbled and Carrie somehow instinctively knew he wasn't acting.

"I know. I'm here." She kept her hand entwined with his, picked up the cloth again and started to wipe down his shoulders. She went slowly down his bare expanse of skin. "You're so brave," she whispered.

He laid there and his face relaxed a bit. She finally stopped holding his hand as he calmed under her touch.

She wiped his biceps, lifted one arm above his head and sponged the underside, gliding along his arm pit and then down his side. She dunked the cloth and wrang it out. Wondered if Dean had ever gotten an actual sponge bath in a hospital before. What injuries he had had in his young life.

She repeated the process on the other side of his body. His eyes were open again and he was watching her in fascination, his gaze following her hand on him. She sponged his torso and his belly jumped a little, the dampness glistening next to his navel.

"Easy, sweetheart." She said.

"Tickles." Dean responded.

She dipped lower to the slight v of his Apollo's belt and traced the outline of muscle with the cloth. "You like this, Dean?" She asked smokily.

His eyes tracked to her face and he seemed a bit surprised. "Yeah."

She rinsed it again and set It back on his torso, then slid it dangerously low. He was watching her with anticipation.

She brushed it over the rim of the dark curling hair and let the cloth brush against the base of his penis teasingly as she went by. He hummed and canted his pelvis up into her touch a little.

She slid it down the front of his thigh and then down in between his legs.

He groaned and let them fall open. She worked silently, wiping down the inside of his muscled thighs and then wringing the cloth out, wetting it again and running it over his testicles. Dean shuddered and gasped, his perfect full mouth fell open in surprised enjoyment.

She lingered there a few minutes, gently soothing his balls, then ran the washcloth up the length of his erection, which had risen rapidly.

"Oh god." He whispered, his belly tight.

She gave him several warm wet strokes with it and then went back down his legs.

"Roll over for me, Dean."

Dean mutely turned onto his stomach and she took the time to sponge off his neck and down the broad shoulders and into the little valley between them. His back muscles were a work of art, long, toned. The arch of his lower back was elegant, with those amazing fucking dimples just above that amazing ass. She finished the back of his legs and set her hand on his rump.

She felt at a loss again. She really wasn't any good at this game.

Dean waited for instructions then rolled to look at her when she didn't move after a minute. He cocked an eyebrow inquisitively.

She moved her hand off his ass.

"Carrie... I think I may have died by now if you were nursing me."

She laughed. "I'm sorry."

He rolled to his side, facing her. 

"You gotta learn how to play." He gave her a wink. "Well, those scrubs are still cute." He patted the bed. "Come be inappropriate with your patient."

She lied down next to him. "Mmmm. You're gonna get me fired, Mr. Winchester. Cuddling with a naked patient is SO against hospital rules."

He gave her a kiss and lifted her thin green cotton shirt to paw under it with one hand. She laughed.

"Dean... naughty. I thought you had a fever."

"Feels better," he said.

She playfully swatted his hand away from her breast and he smirked and went for it again.

She grabbed his wrists and he used her own grip against her, rolling sideways and pulling her on top of him. She squeaked and straddled him.

"Fever means you have to rest," She said sternly from her awkward sprawl on top of him.

"I don't wanna follow doctors orders." He mumbled, pulling her hand to his warm mouth and kissing her palm.

His soft lips against her skin sent a shiver down her spine.

"You're too good at finding spots I didn't know I needed to be kissed." She said, closing her eyes.

Dean lipped there languidly and moved down to her wrist. "I can do this all over your body if you let me, baby." He whispered, his breath against her forearm. "I can make you scream my name and cry."

She studied him and thought about how close to tears he'd seemed a few minutes ago with asking her to tell him it would be okay.

"I can do that for you," she responded. "Make you cry cause it's so good."

He raised an eyebrow and smirked in that infuriating boyish way of his. It was a dare.

She pulled her wrist away and leaned over him to push her fingers through his thick brown hair as he watched her.

"I work at a Urologist's office." She purred. "I know more about your body than you do."

Dean smiled cockily, all white teeth and mischief. "I don't know. I know a whole lot about my own body."

"I know more," she countered. "I can give you a prostate orgasm."

His curiosity was piqued. He blinked. "I..." he stopped and looked at her.

"Have you ever had one?" She asked.

"I dunno."

"Believe me, you'd know if you did. They're more intense than a regular one."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's likely."

"They are. I can make you cry." She was gathering confidence now. She sat her weight back against his pelvis.

"Dean Winchester doesn't cry during sex." He said with his usual bluster.

She leaned forward. "I can make you."

"Kicking me in the balls don't count," he quipped, moving his thigh under her.

"You want me to play nurse, I know how. I can give you a prostate exam with a happy ending."

Dean's eyes were big. "Are you offering to..." the thought occurred to him and he shook his head. "That's not gonna happen. The back door is exit only, sweetheart. "

"You're scared." She teased good-naturedly.

"I'm not scared!" He sat up against the mountain of pillows.

She unstraddled him. "Yes you are."

His jaw went firm, his dignity clearly threatened. "You're not bending me over over a table like a fucking chick."

She touched his arm. "Hey, easy. I don't have to do that."

Carrie tried to read his expression. "Let's play nurse. I know what I'm doing. I'm not going to hurt you."

He didn't say anything. She leaned down and kissed the rim of his ear. "It's just me doing it to you."

He closed his eyes and groaned a little. He swallowed.

"It's just me," Carrie pushed. "And you. No one else ever has to know.... Doctor's orders." She whispered.

She pulled back and his green eyes were conflicted. He seemed to have a slight tremble in his hands as he reached up and ran one through his own hair.

She reached for her stash of medical supplies and picked up the box of disposable gloves.

"Carrie," he said lowly.

Carrie busied herself with the med kit.

"W...what do you have to do?" He asked.

She set the gloves down near him and reached over to stroke his biceps, running her palms up and down them. "Let me take care of you. It's gonna be okay, baby."

She watched his face. Could tell he was hovering between the decision. He looked boyish, like a movie heart throb with his perfect lips and that thick hair and those gorgeous big eyes.

"Just let me take care of you." Carrie slipped a blue latex glove over her hand. 

Dean winced at the snapping sound. The look almost made her question what the hell she was doing, but she didn't allow herself to think about it. "Okay, Dean." She said calmly. "I need you to roll onto your side."

He hesitated almost long enough for her to think he was going to refuse but then did as she told him, turned his back to her, his broad shoulders tense.

Carrie knelt beside him and put her hand on his hip. "Bend your top leg for me." 

Dean hesitated until she guided him, bending his knee for him. His movement was uncharacteristically tentative, almost bracing against her. 

"There." She said. "Just stay like that for now."

She tried to keep her professional face on as she squirted some lubricant onto the glove, rubbed her fingers together. Dean had his head turned a little to watch her, the black cord of his brass pendant the only clothing on his skin.   


Carrie slid her hand down and behind his balls, pressing in gently. 

Dean gasped and jumped, his leg moving a little. 

"Easy," She whispered, oddly touched by his reticence. "Don't worry. I'm gonna take care of you."

He'd turned away from her. His expressive face gave away how nervous he was. It was an expression she'd never seen on him before, features stoic and yet still giving away every bit of hesitation in him. 

She slid her touch back a little farther and he tensed, his shoulders and back muscles like stone, his buttocks rigid. 

She kept her hand where it was and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "It's okay, Dean."

 

He had his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw tight. She felt weird. She actually wasn't sure what she felt. There was a discomfort that he was uncomfortable, mixed with a weird heady power that she was in control. "Okay Dean, I'm gonna slide my finger into you. It might hurt a little."

His jaw tightened so that she saw the muscle at the hinge bulge. He nodded. 

Carrie looked at the pained expression and hesitated. "We don't have to play anymore." She told him. "We can stop."

"Do it." He whispered hoarsely. 

She watched his profile. His eyes were still closed; he had a grim determination to the set of his jaw. 

"Are you sure."

"Carrie, just do it."

Carrie gently pushed inside him.

He gasped, jolted forward, his mouth fell open in a choked cry. Clearly the sensation was foreign to him and not what he was expecting. 

"Shhhh." She told him, feeling him contract with the invasion. "It's okay. It's okay." 

"Nn.." he choked an almost protest, his voice thick.  

She remained still for a minute. "Take deep breaths." She said patiently. "Relax."

He tried to stutter in a few breaths. She leaned in closer to him so he could have skin contact, kissed the side of his face. "Breathe." She whispered. "I'm right here with you. Breathe."

He did finally, a shuddering gulping breath that shook his broad shoulders. He still looked pained. It struck her as odd how scared men were to be penetrated. Dean was radiating tension. It was uncomfortable, no doubt, but compared to the pain he endured on a regular basis? It was all psychological. 

"I need to go in a little farther." She said. "I'm gonna go slow." She twisted her finger slightly to get a better angle and pushed in a little deeper. 

He whimpered and tightened up again. 

She wasn't quite where she needed to be yet. "Almost there, baby." 

She gave him a second to adjust and had to push in to her knuckle. He was a big guy and his prostate up higher. She could feel the firm bump with her finger tip and she gently touched to the side of it. She didn't think it was possible for Dean to tense more but he did. 

His whole body lurched forward and his eyes snapped open with a stuttered breath. This felt so intimate. Dean so vulnerable to her. 

"Easy." She soothed. "This is your prostate. You're fine."

She brushed against the spot again. He gasped and closed his eyes, his jaw trembling. 

"It's intense. Relax baby." She could tell she was pushing him so far out of his comfort zone he was confused how he should react, how he should feel. 

She stroked him evenly, gently. Dean's expression changed as she pressed in. His eyes snapped open, a startled cry broke from him. 

"Oh god!" His face moved from pain to a pleasure bordering on pain. 

His breathing accelerated and his mouth parted. She watched him grab a handful of the sheets and tear them off the side of the mattress. He groaned. 

"Good." She soothed "You're doing good. Am I hurting you?"

"Ye-- no." He whimpered.

His respiration sped up again and his leg started to tremble as she kept her soothing gentle motion. When his thighs and the flat of his belly started up she knew she had his sweet spot. His eyes rolled back. He was grabbing at the mattress, his breaths turning into panting. She had him. She kept it up gently, watching Dean's expressions, feeling her own body react to them. Her heart jumped at each little lip curl and eye squeeze and jump of his buttocks. 

His cries went right through to the pit of her womb with a pleasant pang. It was a challenge to keep calm and not answer his building strength and urgency with her own. 

Dean's entire face had flushed. His mouth open in a silent cry. "Oh god." He panted. "C...Carrie." It was a whine. "Carrie." A plea. She knew what kind of plea it was. The same one she gave to Dean when he had her hovering in ecstasy, focused on her body's reactions. The plea that asked him not to stop. To help her find release.  He shifted more onto his stomach for her to get a better angle and she kept working the spot. 

"It's okay, sweetheart." She told him. She knew that he was going to have no control over when he climaxed. "It's just me touching you."

His breathing was becoming irregular. He'd pant and then tense up and catch in a breath and hold it until he let it out with a moan. He whispered her name. 

He came with a cry that turned into a loud sob and he bucked his hips as he ejaculated. 

The pleasure rolled over him in waves and he caught a breath, burying his face in the sheets as his body spurted again.  

She gave him a minute for the most intense of it to pass, until he calmed and lay there sweating and boneless. 

Carrie slowly and gently slid her finger out. Then peeled off her glove and threw it away.

Dean had curled onto his side and had his head buried in his arm, his breathing still irregular and shaken.

She spooned up behind him, her nose to his ear. She kissed it gently and touched his back. "It's okay." She stroked his bicep, waiting for him to calm down. "It's okay, baby."

He didn't answer her, but she saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He looked like he was in pain. 

"Dean, did I hurt you?"

He shook his head. 

She brushed his hair back and didn't say anything, let him process whatever it was he was feeling.  

She pressed her body to him and he lay limp. His muscled back was sweating. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He said gruffly. 

He cleared his throat and tried to get his breathing to slow with a deep regular rise and fall of his chest. He shifted back against her, wrinkled his nose. "This is disgusting." 

She kissed the back of his neck. "It's a lot of semen. That's why it's called milking the prostate." 

He was awkwardly quiet. 

"I gotta take a leak." He disentangled himself from her and she noticed he was having trouble getting up. His legs still shaking visibly. 

"Dean," she said, "just lay down." 

He waved his hand at her suggestion as if it were an irritant, got up and sort of limped to the bathroom. 

Carrie grabbed a hand towel and wiped up a little of the mess. He really had come everywhere. 

Dean came out after several minutes and raised an eyebrow. "Cleaning my mess?"

She snorted and tossed the towel aside. "Always baby." 

He seemed awkward. She stood up to face him, took his handsome face in her hands. She peppered his jaw with a few kisses. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin." He said but his eyes told her something else. 

"Are you sore?" She asked.

He shook his head. "Not really." 

"Then..."

"Carrie," he gave her a weak smile. "I don't really wanna talk about it." 

She opened her mouth to say something and halted.

Instead of words, she took his hand and squeezed it. "It's just us here. Just me." She assured.  

"I know," he said. "But I have a hard time saying how I feel."

She backed off, let his hand drop. "Okay fine." She walked over to the bed and peeled off the sheets, put them In a wad and dug around for a new set.

Dean watched her quietly then sat gingerly down on the chair.

She spread the sheets out and turned to him. "Hey." She walked over and pulled his head into her breast. He went willingly and wrapped his arms around her. "Shhh."

She wished she knew what he was thinking. 

"D...did you like that?" He asked. 

Carrie paused. "Yes. Yes I thought it was sexy."

He looked surprised. He looked up at her. "You did?"

"Yeah. It felt really intimate." She straddled his lap and he tilted his chin up, looking a little more like Dean.

She kissed him. "Did you like it?"

She saw him flush a little. "I dunno."

She brushed his hair with her hand. "I wish I knew what was going on in your head though." 

He seemed startled. "Yeah?"

"Yes." 

She watched the long sweep of his lashes as he looked into her eyes. His lips were plump and moist and she wanted to bite them. She leaned forward and nibbled on the bottom one. 

He groaned. 

She pulled away to study his handsome face. He had his eyes shut. He breathed deep. "I'm really drained." He blinked. 

She gave him a wicked grin. "I know why." 

He gave her a weak smile. 

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you to bed. Doctor's orders." She unstraddled him and grabbed his hand. He rose and followed after her wearily, his shoulders a bit tight. 

She settled him into the bed and he sighed and crossed his legs at the ankles.

Carrie brought him him a beer from the cooler. He lifted his head to take a swig and set it back down on the floor next to the pile of mattresses. She watched him tenderly. He was so handsome but she was seeing little lines of stress that hadn't been there before in his face. He looked tired. He was quiet. Very quiet for him. She bit her lip, a little worried that he was upset. He still looked shaken somehow. 

Carrie busied herself tidying dishes in the kitchenette. 

"Carrie," he said lowly. 

She looked up. He motioned to her. She put down the rinsed dishes and wiped her hands dry.  

Carrie approached the mattress and crawled on her hands and knees over to him.

"What?" She asked.

He knocked her sideways, tangled her in his arms and rolled her to spoon behind her. She thought maybe he was going to tug her scrubs down and take her from behind but when he scooted his hip up against her he was flaccid. 

She hummed when he very gently bit down on the juncture of her shoulder. His arm went around her and he pinned her in place. 

"Dean?"

"Hmm?" 

"What are you doing?" She squirmed a bit but he had her restrained. 

"Holdin you." He replied. 

"This feels less like holding and more like being captured." 

"I'm capturing you to hold you." 

"Fair enough." She replied. Dean was so warm and solid behind her. 

"Carrie..." his voice was hushed. 

"What, baby?" She tried to twist to look at him but couldn't. 

He was silent for the space of several minutes. 

"M scared." He mumbled. 

Her heart jumped with a weird flash of concern. She wanted to turn around to look at him but he clearly didn't want her to. She put her arms around his forearm. "Scared of what?"

"I dunno." He said after a minute.  

"Yes you do. Say it."

"M so over my head. Sammy and me... it's like things just keep getting darker and darker and I don't know where it ends."  

Carrie lay there and listened. She stroked his forearm again. "You're doing your best. Maybe you should get out of hunting. Come here. Stay with me for a while." 

"Can't," he whispered. "We're in too deep."

"You're never too deep if you grab hold of the life preserver." 

He was quiet and she felt him lean his forehead against her. "I'm Holdin it." He said, tightening his grip. "What you just d..did..." 

It took her her a second to realize he was talking about his prostate.  

"...Hurt. My heart is still pounding."

"Oh Dean. I would have stopped."

"Felt good too though. Really... 

good. But at first..."

"It felt terrible." She said. "I know."

There was a long pause. "Is that what it's like when I'm inside you?"

Carrie was a little surprised at his openness and curiosity to even ask the question. "You never feel terrible inside me."

He sucked in a breath. "Yeah...but it hurts you." 

"Yeah. The hurts so good thing is the same I would think."

She felt him shrug. "It feels like someone has the base of your dick from the inside. It's weird." 

"Well the nerve sort of starts up there."

"Anatomy is weird," he said in his simple observation of things.

"Yes it is."

His hands were suddenly roving under her scrubs. 

"Dean," she protested. But she let him. He pulled her in close to him, his breath against her earlobe. 

She arched her back and tossed her head. His teeth grazed the inside of her neck. Then he picked a spot on her pulse point and gently started to suck.

"Oh..." she whispered, delighted at the rush of endorphins.

His hand roved to her breast and teased her nipple between his fingers. He kept sucking and teasing until she grew breathless and twisted under his hold. "My good girl," he muttered. 

She tried to twist around and face him or pull and day but he kept her pinned to his chest. "Easy sweetheart. Just enjoy it."

"Oh Dean."

His hand went from her breast down between her legs and settled there. A heavy warm weight he barely moved. She wanted to grind against him so badly. He stopped kissing her neck and moved to the juncture of her shoulder. 

Suddenly his left hand tugged down the back of her scrubs and slid into her vagina from behind. She cried out, her body fluttering around him. He kept that still as well. Still inside her and still outside of her. Nothing but pressure and weight and Carrie wanting to writhe under him. 

He finally moved the fingers inside her a little. She gasped. Then the stimulation at the front of her clit pressed in a little further. She tried to buck up into him. "Good, girl."

"Dean, please."

His fingers worked in a little deeper until there was a stretching burn. 

"Oh god." She whimpered. "Dean."

He kissed her shoulder. Her pulse was pounding under his fingers between her legs.

"Please. Please."

"Okay." He moved his finger on her clit in a lazy circle, pressed in and then pushed in a steady gentle rhythm.

She climaxed, her body clenching around his hand, her sight going fuzzy for moment. He shifted one of his hands and she climaxed again, crying his name. 

He grunted behind her. "So sexy when you do that." He whispered.

He pulled his fingers out of her and Carrie collapsed onto her stomach on the mattress, heart pounding. He kissed her cheek, completely satisfied with himself. "I'm gonna grab a beer."

Carrie woke up early in the morning, so early the light was hardly beginning to filter through the cabin window.

Dean was dozing next to her. He'd stripped to his boxer briefs and was lying on his stomach on top of the covers. She drank in his outline like she always did when he was near. The sheer physical perfection of him. She wanted to go wrap herself around him but she also didn't want to wake him. He tended to run himself so ragged that he needed whatever sleep he could snatch. As far as she could tell from their days together, he had horrible sleeping habits. He was up or stirring more than he was asleep. His tossing woke her up. So did his frequent bad dreams. He always seemed restless, like an electric current hummed through him. She worried about what he was dreaming about sometimes.

She stretched silently, and true to form, Dean stirred and cracked his eyes open sleepily, taking her in.

"Good morning, angel." She said.

"Hi," he mouthed silently, dropping his eyelids shut again, a bit of rising sun limning his cheekbone in peach and gold light.

He took a deep breath and stirred again with a sigh.

She crawled over to him and put her arm over his broad back and tucked her head in next to his.

He relaxed into her for a moment. 

"I gotta go." He said. "Supposed to meet Sammy soon."

She traced his cheek bone with her finger. "This was way too short a trip."

"Yeah," he said.

It somehow occurred to her that they actually hadn't had intercourse this visit. He snuggled into her. "Wish I could have about 8 days to do nothing but this."

"You'd go stir crazy," she said, scoffing at the image.

"I would not." He mumbled. "I'd have sex and my beer. Don't need anything else. Just like to hit pause some days."

He turned his head toward her momentarily and gave her a light peck on the forehead. "Okay," he said with resolve. "Gotta get up."

He groaned as he slipped out of her arms and stood up. He cast around for his jeans and pulled them on with a grimace. She watched him bend stiffly for his t shirt and head for the bathroom. There was slight hesitancy to his gait and she registered that she'd left him a little sore. The role reversal felt weird.

Carrie got up and slipped on her scrubs. She wondered if she had time to go home and shower and change before her next shift. She tidied up a little, gathering up the pile of rumpled sheets, which distinctly needed to be taken home and thrown in the wash and put the waste basket back under the sink.

Dean came out a few minutes later looking more awake. He walked over to the kitchen sink and splashed some water on his face and through his hair, before he finger combed it into its usual slightly spiked style.

"Hey baby. Doin laundry?" he asked, watching her pile the stuff into a duffle bag.

"Yep. I'll take it home and wash it."

"That's gonna be a pain in the ass to haul back to the car."

"Yep." She walked over to him, stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek.

He brightened and smiled affectionately at her. "Man, you'd be nice to wake up to every day." He said, slipping his hand under her shirt and laying it against the skin of her lower back. She felt his fingers lightly trace over the muscle near her spine. 

She stepped forward and leaned her head against his chest. She listened to the steady sound of his heart working inside him. "That would be nice," she whispered.

Dean toyed with her hair for a minute, then broke contact and cleared his throat. He gave her a sweet almost shy smile. "Gotta go, babe."

He swung the duffle over his shoulder and gestured for her to follow. She did, closing up the cabin behind her.

His limp seemed to be improving as he was walking.

"Did I make you sore?"

He looked over to her through the corner of his eye and then his gaze focused forward again. "Why?"

"You're walking stiffly."

He snorted. "Like a prisoner who dropped the soap."

She grimaced, fighting a wave of guilty anxiety. "That's not funny."

"I'm fine. Felt it a little when I got up. Quit worrying about me."

"I feel bad that I kind of pushed you into it."

Dean stopped and turned to look at her sharply. "There isn't nothing you could push me into if I didn't want to try it, Carrie."

She felt like her opening a conversation about it was steering Dean into a bad mood. "Sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" He set the duffle down for a second.

She shrugged, upset and guilty but not knowing why.

"Okay. You know that 'I don't know' shit would've gotten my ass kicked if I pulled it with my dad." He opened his posture confidently. "Say what you mean."

"I'm sorry I brought it up. You're mad."

He tipped his head sideways and his lip tugged into a half smile of disbelief. "I'm not mad. What about me makes you think I'm mad?"

She shrugged again, realized he'd be annoyed at that response and swallowed.

He shook his head. "Carrie. Quit projecting all these things I'm not feeling onto me. You're making things so much more complicated than they have to be."

"Okay." Carrie touched his forearm. "How about I'm sorry I made you sore?"

He shrugged congenially. "It happens."

He picked up the duffle and took her arm, clasped hands with her. "I don't bite you know." He gave her a sly look. "Unless you're a real good girl and ask nicely."

She laughed. "Please?"

Dean grabbed her and ducked his head to nip her shoulder gently. He gave her a little swat on the backside.

She laughed and made a pretense of trying to get away. He let her with one of his boyish smiles.

They wandered to the cars together. Dean arching a brow and looking hers over silently. Carrie unlocked the door and he ducked low and threw the duffle bag of sheets in the back seat. "You keep up with the maintenance on this thing. You got that?"

She grinned up at him. "Of course, sir."

"Don't be a wise ass," he told her. "Just do it."

"Okay."

He ducked low to give her one last, long kiss and then he broke away with a grin. "See you, sweetheart."

Carrie was going to miss him.

"Bye Dean." She stood there for a minute, got into her car and sat until she saw him slide behind the wheel of his baby and drive away.

  
  



End file.
